


Eight Pieces

by JeromeSankara



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Loss, M/M, Organ Transplantation, Rickyl Writers' Group
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 21:45:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17795306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeromeSankara/pseuds/JeromeSankara
Summary: Rick Grimes gives new life to eight people even after he's gone.





	Eight Pieces

He didn't feel a thing.

That's the only thing that Daryl managed to grasp a hold of the doctor's long words and twisting vocabulary. When the rest was drowned out by monitor beeps and dripping IVs, that's all Daryl heard. That Rick wasn't really there anymore, that he wouldn't open his eyes again, that he was gone, and that...

He didn't feel a thing. It would be like he just fell asleep.

One moment, Rick was driving to work, and the next moment, just… gone. But he wasn't really gone. He left something behind. Eight pieces of himself. Eight second chances.

Daryl stared down at his hands, rolling the gold band on his ring finger, and tried to keep his mind blank. He'd gone through the mountain of paperwork and questions, of so many people telling him to take his time and trying their best to make this easier but…

He had watched Rick leave that morning for work, a quick kiss, and telling Rick he'd see him later. An hour later, he was in the hospital. In that room. The room that Daryl had stayed in for days, struggling with a decision that should have been easy but saying it aloud hurt more than he ever felt before. Where visitors constantly came to say their goodbyes, telling Daryl that this was the right thing to do, but Daryl wanted nothing more than to be selfish and keep Rick alive. To not have to let go.

The only thing that helped him say those words was knowing that this would save someone. That someone somewhere would get the news that they were going to live. But most importantly, it was what  _ Rick _ would want.

Which led him back to now, and to the thoughts that had been echoed by everyone he talked to.

He won't feel a thing.

Neither could Daryl. Just emptiness. He'd been waiting in this chair for hours now, after his last goodbye. He had watched them wheel Rick's body away, where surgeons were waiting and organ recipients already prepared. Rick was going to help so many people… Some of them were in this waiting room. Families waiting anxiously to know that their loved one was going to finally be alright.

Daryl lifted his head as another family was called up, a nurse speaking quietly but with a smile. Another piece of Rick was safe.

“Hey, mind if I sit here?”

Someone spoke beside him, but Daryl couldn't bring himself to look. All he did was shrug. That must have been answer enough, as he heard the man sit in the seat right next to him. Daryl didn't have the energy to even look around to see if there were other seats.

“Are you alright?”

A stupid question to ask, sitting in a surgery waiting room. But all he did was shake his head. No words came out, his throat wouldn't let them.

“Well… Maybe I can give you a bit of good luck?”

How? Finally gaining enough force to lift his head, Daryl stared blankly at the young man sitting right next to him. He blinked.

“Shit, am I dyin’?”

The man who looked a shit-ton like Jesus just groaned loudly and shook his head. “Why does everyone do that? I'm not actually Jesus.” Holding out his hand, the man smiled. “I'm Paul.”

“Daryl,” he murmured, just staring down at his outstretched hand. Paul hesitated, then dropped it down onto his lap. “Good luck's a bit late for me.”

The smile dimmed, but Paul wasn't detoured. “Nah, it's never too late. I mean, me and my partner, we were gonna give up, too. Thought it was all over. But then we got the call last night.”

Every muscle in his body tensed up, and his breath lodged somewhere in his throat. Paul didn't skip a beat, and his smile widened even more.

“We  _ finally _ got a heart!”

* * *

The two more hours of waiting felt like nothing. The facts still cycled through Daryl's head as he followed Paul down the hospital hallway.

Aaron Rovia had been waiting almost his whole life for a heart. He had been born with two valves not functioning and a third on its way out. Him being alive as long as he has been was one in a million. The fact that he was finally getting a heart was a miracle. Surgery was a success, and Paul managed to convince the doctors to let Daryl in, even if he wasn't kin. Because his heart was.

He hadn't even been able to step into the room before he heard it. The soft beeps. Slow, steady, unwavering. The sounds made him stumble to a stop, and he could only stand there and listen.

And he felt it. Such a bittersweet joy that he couldn't begin to understand, still tangled in agony but it was  _ good. _ It was somehow  _ good. _

Daryl fell to his knees and let it all rush out, the tears he had been struggling to hold back no longer trapped. He felt arms wrap around him, holding him tightly, and for just a moment, he let himself believe that it was Rick.

Because it was Rick's heart. Beating and alive inside someone who would finally be granted a new life. A new beginning.

And he could hear it. And he felt it.


End file.
